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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952931">Getting Back in the Game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnollproblems/pseuds/gnollproblems'>gnollproblems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Armello (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Possession, Corruption, Deep tongue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Furry, Hand Jobs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Possession, Rimming, Romance, Rough Oral Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:54:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnollproblems/pseuds/gnollproblems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scarlet the Bandit King tasks Horace with a covert operation to seduce and rob Brun. Horace is less than confident in his abilities, but, after doing far better than he expected, finds that his personal hangups go far beyond his appearance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Horace (Armello)/Original Character, Horace/Brun (Armello)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Heart to Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…and so long as no one else raids the petty cash drawer – <em>Twiss</em> – our coffers will remain filled for another fortnight.” Scarlet the Bandit King, using an empty wine barrel as a makeshift desk, tossed her hastily scrawled budget sheet aside and let it flutter to the stone floor. “Maybe.”</p><p>Twiss hung down from a support beam of the damp wine cellar, her tiny arms folded in mock anger. “Are you still sore about that? I put all the money back the next day.”</p><p>Scarlet returned the gesture with a purse-lipped smile. “While I appreciate your efforts to test out the security measures, sweetie, I merely ask that you inform me of such sporting ventures beforehand so <em>the next time a captain of the King’s Guard saunters through my office door, I have something more enticing to bribe him with than </em><em><b>a GOD DAMNED ACORN</b></em>! Speaking of which, Sylas, has that mess been mopped up?”</p><p>Sylas’ imposing figure remained still, save for a slight head nod and a grunt.</p><p>“The body was disposed of discreetly? Not merely thrown in the river like the last one?”</p><p>His beady black eyes wandered. “More of a creek, really.”</p><p>“Yeah. Good. Good enough,” Scarlet said, her gloved hands kneaded her temples. “At this rate, we’ll be back at our old headquarters by this time next year. So we’re all clear on our missions? Twiss to Ravenbrooke to nick the Marauder Gauntlets and Sylas to intercept Thane en route to the palace?”</p><p>Twiss dropped from the ceiling with a light <em>pat</em> and giggled. Sylas simply tapped the blunt end of his spear against the floor in acknowledgment.</p><p>“Excellent. Dismissed.”</p><p>“Er- my King?”</p><p>Horace, owing to his military background, rarely spoke out of turn. Scarlet chuckled to herself. Ever the Guardsman.</p><p>“Oh, not to worry, Sir Horace. I have something special saved for you.”</p><p>“What?!” Twiss flipped around with her typical effortless agility. “Thought we didn’t keep secrets between ourselves.” Even Sylas, one foot up the stairs, seemed curious.</p><p>“I don’t want you idiots getting in the way of this one,” Scarlet said, annoyed that she was being pressed to explain herself, “and I know you will if I let you in on the details. Now get moving.”</p><p>Scarlet waited impassively for everyone except Horace to clear the cellar. She let a full minute of silence pass after the door shut just in case. Plus, she enjoyed watching Horace’s stoic façade gradually succumb to confusion.</p><p>Once satisfied that she and Horace were alone, Scarlet sat up from her footstool. Now the fun part of the evening could begin.</p><p>“Now then. Horace, my dear. I wanted to – TWISS! OUT OF THE BUILDING!”</p><p>She caught motion in her sailor’s lantern from the corner of her eye. Some muffled scurrying was heard from the floorboards above, followed by the opening and shutting of a window.</p><p>Another minute passed. Scarlet sighed and rested the lantern back on the top of her desk-barrel. “Everything’s a game to that one,” Scarlet said, staring up at the leaky ceiling. “Wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Horace straightened his posture. “Couldn’t say, my liege. Not my place.”</p><p>Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Oh, loosen <em>up</em>, you old fart. I know there’s a personality rattling around somewhere in that tin can of yours.” She playfully tapped a finger on Horace’s helmet. “And we’re alone, you can just call me Scarlet.”</p><p>She noticed Horace trying not to twitch. “Yes, my… Scarlet.”</p><p>“Bringing me back to my original question. Horace?”</p><p>“Ma’am?”</p><p>“Have a seat, please.”</p><p>Horace looked around the cellar with a look of adorable uncertainty. He took one hesitant step towards the footstool before Scarlet put her hands on his shoulders. “Have… a… <em>seat</em>.” With some force, she pressed down and brought his backside to rest on a sideways wine barrel lurking just behind him.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>The barrel shifted awkwardly under Horace’s weight. He was still clutching his bardiche in his lap. Scarlet wordlessly lifted it out from his grip and leaned it against the wall. His response was to stare straight forward, as Scarlet knew he always did whenever he was losing control of a situation. Falling back on his training. Tsk. Bad habits.</p><p>She tipped another nearby barrel and rolled it over so she was sitting directly in front of him. The stiff back. The tightening grimace. Poor, stoic baby. It was time to let him off the hook.</p><p>“Horace.”</p><p>“Mrm.”</p><p>“I want to ask you a personal question.”</p><p>“Hrg”</p><p>“When was the last time…”</p><p>“Ngh”</p><p>“…you had…”</p><p>“<em>BLRF</em>”</p><p>“…a decent lay?”</p><p>“<b>SORRYBUTIMNOTINTERESTED</b>”</p><p>Horace bolted up with a start. Scarlet had figured he would lose it. She got up along with him and held his sides in reassurance. “<em>At ease</em>, soldier. I know it’s not my type you’re interested in.”</p><p>“Your – huh?”</p><p>“Which is why I’m asking. How long have you been out of the game? Are you rusty at all?”</p><p>“This… I…”</p><p>“Fooled around in the barracks much? I know how dirty those lads like to get when they’re on leave.” Scarlet’s mind briefly drifted back to her raiding days. “A very handsy bunch.”</p><p>“I nev – WHY?!”</p><p>“Because it’s relevant to your mission. And I want to make sure you’re fully prepared for it.”</p><p>“…how did you know?”</p><p>Scarlet flashed her canines with a sly grin only she could give. “I always know. And I’ve seen the way you eye that cute blacksmith in town whenever he works shirtless. Excellent taste, by the way.”</p><p>Horace exhaled and sat back down on his barrel. “I… fail to see how my romantic… <em>leanings</em>… would be relevant to our cause of rebellion.”</p><p>“Because,” said Scarlet, not missing a beat, “ 'Romance,' as you put it, isn’t merely a pastime for the bored, rich, and the brothel-bound. Desire is a commodity. A valuable resource. Possessing what people desire gives you power. And any power can be wielded as a weapon. And we need access to as many weapons as we can get our hands on to destroy those who wish to destroy us.”</p><p>The unease on Horace’s face faded somewhat, but he remained impassive. “Still… it's hardly my forte. I haven’t had a relationship of the sort ever since my Guard training.”</p><p>“Horace, you’re not in the King’s Guard any more. They can’t punish you now for wanting what's natural for you to want. And you’re hardly the only one that feels the same way.”</p><p>The two of them shared a quiet moment before Scarlet reached into her messenger bag. “Case in point.”</p><p>She unfurled a wanted poster. On it was a bear – a very large bear – with a carved wooden earring, wielding a double-headed Morningstar and bearing unmistakable crescent scars upon his arms and chest.</p><p>“Brun?”</p><p>Scarlet nodded.</p><p>“The Scarcaster Brun?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” she said, her excitement showing on her face.</p><p>“The battle mage outcast from his own clan? Wanted for the murder of a dozen guards?”</p><p>“The very same!”</p><p>“And you want me to –“</p><p>“<em>Romance</em> him. Yes.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>Scarlet leaned in close to his face with a very self-satisfied expression. “<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>“But I – No!”</p><p><em>Good</em>, thought Scarlet. <em>He’s finally showing some spine</em>. “Come now, Horace. You’ve never refused an order in your life and I don’t expect you’ll start now.”</p><p>Horace folded his hands pensively. “I did refuse an order,” he said, not looking Scarlet in the eyes. “Once.”</p><p>“Oh my <em>God</em>,” Scarlet said, rolling back on her barrel. “You know, you’re far more dramatic than you think you are. And you’re still not saying no to this.” Horace’s teeth started to grit. Oh, the sheer <em>frustration</em>. Scarlet couldn’t be more delighted.</p><p>“Far be it from me to question your authority, Scarlet, but… <em>how</em> are you so confident in this plan? How could this possibly <em>work</em>?”</p><p>“Oh, Horace. My monochromatic friend.” She strutted around the old badger with an impossibly assured cadence. “How long have you known me? Well enough to know that I think my plans through? That I wouldn’t suit you with a task I wasn’t absolutely certain you could accomplish?”</p><p>Horace’s eyebrows furrowed, but he remained silent.</p><p>“My informant tells me Brun is making his way through Beggar’s Bluff, taking the long way around Felden Grove to avoid a King’s Guard patrol. That puts him <em>right here</em>, in Stag’s Landing, by evening tomorrow. He’ll be out of his element, forced to stay at an inn instead of camping in the wilderness. And you know something?”</p><p>She looked into his eyes. He couldn’t hide his trepidation, but he followed intently.</p><p>“He hasn’t had a good fuck in ages either. Had his advances spurned by a miner in his traveling party, from what I hear.” She was embellishing. Slightly. Brun had spent a night with the miner already. The miner had told her that when she bought him off. “He’s pent up. In dire need of companionship. Just work your clueless charm on him and he’ll melt.”</p><p>Horace removed his helmet and ran his fingers through the fur on his head. “You’re sure I can’t just fight him?”</p><p>“I’d rather not risk you in that way,” Scarlet said with a sterner tone. “Considering he’s come across some powerful relics. Relics that I hope can be put to better use with us. And if he’s coming after the throne as I assume he is, he poses an unacceptable risk to our operation. Horace… I know you’re a bit set in your ways, but it’s not the Bandit way to storm the gates when there’s a perfectly good back door you can slip through.”</p><p>“And I’m to be the back door.”</p><p>“<b>SNRK</b>”</p><p>Scarlet attempted to stifle her giggling. Horace was nonplussed.</p><p>“Wow. WOW. It really has been that long, huh?”</p><p>“Not nearly long enough,” said Horace. He stood up and turned to face Scarlet. “Fine. I’ll give it a go.”</p><p>“Eee!”</p><p>“But I’ll need some time to prepare.”</p><p>“Say no more,” said Scarlet. “Talk to the innkeeper upstairs. I’ve already arranged a room for you. She’s also taken the trouble to loan us a few books from her private collection.”</p><p>“Books.”</p><p>“<em>Books</em>. Some research material. I’m sure you’re aware of the sort. Um, Men of High Breeding, A Hare’s Summers in Heat, Under the Apothecary’s Desk, The Druid’s Fluids. Ooh, A Tale of Dicks in Duncastle? Fascinating read, if you don’t mind the atrocious grammar.”</p><p>“I’m going now.”</p><p>“I know you’ve read half of these, I pulled titles from the shelf under your bedside table!”</p><p>“Thank you, Scarlet!”</p><p>Horace was already at the top of the stairs. Scarlet was amazed by his rapid progress in proper dissent. “I still haven’t dismissed you!”</p><p>He halted midway through turning the doorknob. “Yes, my King?”</p><p>Scarlet tilted her head in mock thought. “Do you have anything really slutty to wear?”</p><p>Horace stared wordlessly.</p><p>“Oh what am I saying? Of course you don’t. I’ll send someone up to get your measurements.”</p><p>“<em>Good evening, Scarlet</em>.”</p><p>“Break a leg, champ!”</p><p>The door slammed shut. Scarlet rubbed her gay little paws together and ran into town to collect a tailor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Your Guard to My Noble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been an age since Horace had gone into public in plainclothes. Even when he was prodded to go on leave by his commanding officer, he had still worn at least his uniform standard doublet and leggings. No, the last time was before he had even been enrolled in the King’s Guard. Ages ago. Just a boy then.</p><p>And the clothes Scarlet had rustled up for him definitely didn’t help matters. Horace couldn’t recall when he had worn shorts last, much less ones that covered maybe two inches of thigh. And skintight tunics? Horace wasn’t sure what build they were designed to fit, but it wasn’t his. Not after forty-seven years of beer and cheese. Not to mention the absurd white lace underwear with a snug pouch that accentuated his… undercarriage. Even his feet were too fat for the silk stockings to get past. How do you have fat feet? Apparently, his body had found a way.</p><p>How had Scarlet completely sabotaged his body image through the power of mere suggestion? For the first time in his life, he couldn’t look directly into a mirror. Every minor imperfection he had been comfortable with the day before was now a hideous, bulging tumor screaming out to be noticed. His muscle was still there, but you could hardly make out any definition under the flab that had collected on his stomach. Skin had begun sagging from random places at some point. Age had silently overtaken him, like a brigand at the dead end of an alleyway.</p><p>Scarlet's aim, as always, was true. Horace had been out of the game for a very, very long time.</p><p>And yet she thinks he could be found desirable by this tower of a bear. By anyone at all. He couldn’t understand it. But then, Scarlet was a leader, a woman of vision. He didn’t care enough to plan, to see the full picture. Maybe she could see something about him that he couldn’t. Some appealing physical quality that had long since become invisible to him. Since... training.</p><p>Horace stared into his suite’s full-length mirror from the corner of his bed. He took it all in – the chubbiness of his chest, his belly, the stretches, the lumps, the rolls. He looked back at the wanted poster. His target, Brun, had the same physique. Just on a larger scale. Much larger. A head taller, maybe, with broader shoulders. Powerful arms. Two-inch-long canines. Fury in his eyes. A chest you could bury your face in for day – erm.</p><p>Horace looked down at his lap. He was getting carried away with this thoughts for the first time in years. It was a bad habit that had been trained out of him, until this very lapse.</p><p><a id="_GoBack" name="_GoBack"></a>But… this mission was different. He got off the bed and turned around to look at his back in the mirror. It certainly took some imagination to think his ass could look remotely appealing, no matter how skimpy his underwear got. But with everything else being topsy-turvy, perhaps his roaming attention span could finally be put to good use.</p><p>Horace's eyes turned to the “research material” stacked on top of the dresser. Scarlet was wrong about one thing, at least – he hadn't read most of these smutty books, even though they <em>were</em> his. It was just impossble for Horace to bring himself to throw away a single holiday or birthday gift, whether gag or sincere. He picked through them until he found the most reasonable title.</p><p><em>Men of High Breeding</em>. Apparently, some sordid tale of an arrogant young noble lusting after one of his personal bodyguards. Horace flipped through the contrived dialogue until he came across a crude illustration. The noble, of slim build even for a weasel, was being pinned against the inside of a closet by a heavyset bull three times his size. In the middle of a ball he was holding, no less, so they could barely make a sound in spite of their raging passions. Most of their clothes were still on – just the bare minimum pulled out of the way for sheer necessity. The noble, lost in pleasure, sucking tenderly on the guard's fat middle finger as his ass was effortlessly spread apart by a large, rough hand... his back arching in whorish need...</p><p><em>Snap</em>. Horace looked down. His throbbing erection had managed to loosen a few of the silk threads on his absurdly tight underwear.</p><p>Okay, maybe he <em>was</em> pent up. Fine. Point acknowledged. That's energy that can be put to good use for the operation. But in this case, he needed to put himself in the... noble's position. Instead of the guard's. Horace wasn't the biggest or strongest thing around, but he could easily hold his own in most fights. Except for maybe Brun.</p><p>Easy. Just a bit of roleplaying, right? He turned back to Brun's wanted poster, with his menacing eyes and considerable bulk. Okay. Picture Brun as your beefy, rough, calloused guard, and yourself as the snide, impish little twig that he's about snap in half with his massive cock. Be playful. Annoy him. Tease him until he can't stand the thought of you not being bent over a bed.</p><p>With a full-length mirror and a coat rack to practice on, Horace spent the better part of an afternoon reenacting poses and quotes from his books. The filthier and stupider, the better. He absorbed all the information he could and took detailed notes. Be the slut. <em>Embrace</em> the slut. Counteract any urge you have to slap yourself back into line. Ass <em>out</em>. All times, no exceptions. Wink, soldier. Bat those eyelashes. Force his gaze to roam along every enticing curve of your body. Use every little excuse to brush up against him. But don't let him have it. Stay one tantalizing step ahead until he just can't take it anymore. And then. And <em>then</em>. You allow him to have his fill. You'll be his.</p><p>And he'll be yours.</p><p>The evening light hit the window. Shit. It was already dusk. Brun would be arriving at any moment. Horace's military instincts kicked in. He snapped to attention, pulled up his booty shorts that said “SUCCULENT” across the ass, and gave his slutty getup a salute in front of the mirror. <em>For Armello</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Eyes Never Lie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As scary as Brun's wanted poster made him out to be, it still somehow didn't do him justice.</p><p>Brun had arrived at the bar downstairs within the last ten minutes. Somehow, while being caught up in his own head, Horace hadn't noticed the quiet that had overtaken the establishment. The patrons gave Brun a wide berth, crowding around the edges of the bar while he sat right at the center. And understandably so. Brun's figure was... imposing. From the wanted poster, Horace had assumed the markings all over Brun's body were painted on to his fur. Despite the moniker, Horace hadn't expected Brun's markings to be quite literally carved into his body. Angry scar tissue peeked out from the bear's impressive hide as he wordlessly leaned over to refill his beer, which he then tipped back and swallowed in one long, slow gulp.</p><p>Shivers crept along Horace's exposed skin as he took Brun in from the top of the balcony. An intense hyper-awareness began to grip him, and the obviousness of his ploy at once became stunningly apparent. Horace, even after his ousting from the King's Guard, was a fairly well-known knight of some reputation. Even if Brun didn't recognize him, there was a good chance someone else at the bar would. And assuming they didn't say anything, the fact that Horace would be the only person there willing to come within ten feet of a hulking manslayer was a dead giveaway. With one look, Horace's confidence snapped like a silk thread. He stood for a minute, transfixed, feeling very much like a lump of dough someone had wrestled into a ridiculous skimpy outfit. He was marching into battle naked and unarmed. It wasn't going to work. How could anyone possibly <em>imagine</em> this could work? Fucking Scarlet.</p><p><em>No.</em> He felt the soldier in him taking control again.<em> Shake it off. It doesn't matter. That's the mission. If you don't have faith in your mission, you have nothing. Outrageous though you may look, this is now a part of your duty, and a soldier is sworn to uphold their duty for the sake of their country.</em></p><p>
  <em>So if that duty is to wiggle down these stairs in a coquettish manner, perch yourself on that stool next to that hot, bloodthirsty bear, and pop your ass out so far that he has a tunnel view straight down the parting of your asscheeks... if that preserves your country, then by <strong>God</strong>, that duty is sacred.</em>
</p><p>Horace took his descent step by step to calm his uneasy nerves. Not that it really mattered. Brun was staring straight ahead, and every bar patron was either focused squarely on him or trying and failing to ignore him. With one more adjustment to his top, Horace slid into the seat next to Brun and hailed the bartender, a skittish-looking brown rat in traditional barmaid garb. She had already been briefed by Scarlet, no doubt, but that didn't seem to make her any less apprehensive as she topped off glass after glass for the mountain of fur and sinew in front of her.</p><p>As she slid a pint over to Horace, a clear expression of <em>I hope you know what the fuck you're doing</em> came across as she said “two coppers” with all the plainness of white bread. Horace fished his coin purse out (which was clinging to the inside of his hip, since he had no pockets) and gave her a gold piece instead, mouthing <em>for your troubles</em>. She didn't look any more appreciative, but the sentiment was received.</p><p>
  <em>Here we go.</em>
</p><p>Horace gently laid his fingertips on Brun's arm and looked up into his face (which was still staring straight ahead) with a breathy, hopefully sexy voice.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>It was enough to get Brun's attention for a few seconds. He looked down at Horace, then back to his glass.<em> All right. He knows I exist, and he didn't immediately try to tear my limbs off. Step one crossed off</em>. Horace pressed on.</p><p>“New in town?”</p><p>Horace traced Brun's arm from his elbow to the apex of his bicep. It was a bit of a long journey. <em>Huff.</em> He waited on a response.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Brun didn't turn around that time. <em>Could be a good sign. He seems relaxed around me. Man of few words, maybe? He does spend most of his time in the forest.</em> Horace could gather that from his smell, which was not at all unpleasant. It was a heavy musk of pine needles, campfire ashes, and charred meat. Small bits of dried leaves were still embedded in his back fur from the night before. Someone with a hide that thick hardly needed a blanket. Barely a loincloth. <em>Focus, Horace.</em></p><p>“...do you have any plans for toni-”</p><p>“How many men have you killed?”</p><p><em>Fuck. </em>Horace fluttered his eyes to disguise a twitch.</p><p>“Pardon me?”</p><p>“The eyes never lie. With every soul you claim, they get a little heavier, a little less brighter. They carry weary and sin. And yours...”</p><p>Brun shifted around entirely to face Horace. His gaze was penetrating.</p><p>“...I know very well. So. How many?”</p><p>The enticing come-hither curls at the corners of Horace's mouth were lost to gravity. The game was apparent. The only strategy going forward was honesty.</p><p>“I make it a point not to keep count. I find it disrespectful to the dead.”</p><p>“Respect?” Brun quaked in an internal laugh that shook the floor around him. Horace felt the vibrations travel through his sternum. “You take their lives and then talk about respect?”</p><p>Horace rested an arm on the bar. He felt more natural now, somehow. “It's the smallest mercy I can repay. Every loss of life is a tragedy and a burden.”</p><p>“And yet you are in the business of tragedy and burden.” Brun shook once more and threw back what had to be at least his tenth beer. When you're that size, Horace thought, it's hardly necessary to build a tolerance. “I suffer no such delusion. You must be King's Guard, with that level of hypocrisy.”</p><p>“Ex-King's Guard.” Horace winced and took a healthy swig. Saying it out loud still stung.</p><p>“Ah! Good. I was afraid I would have to twist your head off your neck. I have to admit, the uh. Dress. Threw me.” Brun gestured broadly along Horace's body.</p><p>“I... thought it was time for a change in my life. To open myself to new possibilities. I find it freeing.” The realization smacked Horace awake. He could still pull this off. He stuck his chest out, put his free hand on his bare thigh, and reestablished eye contact. “Do you like it?”</p><p>Even if Horace hadn't been facing him, he still could have felt Brun's eyes tracing his curves from a mile away, stopping to linger on the important bits. Scarlet's intel was on the money. Horace had what he wanted.<em> Good. I finally have his undivided attention.</em></p><p>And yet Brun's eyes were quite weary, too. The the fire he saw in the poster was still there, but it seemed very far away right now. Retreated into the embers. Beaten down after many raging battles. Horace could see Brun had his fair share of things that needed forgetting. He needed this, too. Just as much as Horace did. A release. A reminder.</p><p>“It is... garish to me. But it does not hide your beauty.”</p><p>A genuine compliment. The feeling was overwhelming, but it made Horace's chest lighter. His cheeks flushed, but he refused to let himself turn away. Brun returned the sentiment by extending his massive paw and caressing Horace's face.</p><p>“How do I know this is not a trap?”</p><p>Horace's response flowed out of him like honey. “You don't. But I'm unarmed. I couldn't overpower you one on one if I tried." <em>I'd put up a damn good fight, though.</em> "So. Your call. See if I'm worthy of your respect.”</p><p>To fully make his point, Horace took Brun's hand and brought it down against his throat. It was a funny feeling; knowing the sheer animal strength of Brun's grip, the sharpness of his claws, anticipating death as breathlessly as if they were sparring, but feeling utterly serene as he surrendered to the comfort of Brun's touch. Brun stroked the inside of Horace's cheek with his thumb, wiping away a small tear. Horace hadn't even noticed he was crying.</p><p>
  <em>Don't lose yourself now. Seal the deal.</em>
</p><p>“Up the stairs, door straight ahead. Three knocks,” Horace said, getting up from his seat. Brun's hand drifted down to Horace's chest as he stood, then slipped down to his hip as he started walking away. “Feel free to unburden me once you've had your fill of cheap beer.”</p><p>It wasn't until Horace started walking up the stairs that he realized the scene had caught the attention of quite a few patrons. A few of them were gawking. He smiled. Felt proud, even. The thought of them washed from his mind without a trace. He closed the door and threw off his clothes, save for the underwear, which was coming to feel quite comfortable. The three knocks followed less than five minutes later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Out of Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>You're kind of cute, you know that? I can see why the girls talk about you.”</em></p><p>Horace's eyes eased open in the middle of a kiss. The only light in the room came from a single candle, half-consumed. Brun was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Horace was straddling his lap. Their chest fur mingled with each breath, which became deeper and stronger with every passing second. He felt Brun's claws, one hand on the small of his back and the other on his ass, pressing against him, careful not to pierce Horace's skin, but just on the edge of giving in fully to animal urge. The face of a ghost flashed in and out of his vision. <em>No. Stop. Be in the moment. Only in the moment.</em></p><p>“<em>I'm sneaking into town in a couple hours... if you feel like joining me.”</em></p><p><em>Gasp.</em> Eyes open again. Horace's underwear had been peeled off a minute ago, now barely clinging around his left ankle. He felt Brun's erection beneath him, escaping from around the edge of that well-traveled loincloth. Horace rested his weight against it, gently, teasing the skin up and down. He could tell it was proportional to Brun's body; of course, an average length for Brun was still impressive to everyone else, including Horace. And like Brun, it had the girth of a whiskey barrel. With a few wriggles, it began to part his cheeks, solid and thick as the end of a club.</p><p>“<em>Forget the Guard. Forget our parents. Forget everything else. The only thing I care about is you.”</em></p><p>Back to the present. Horace had been turned around on Brun's lap. He was tipping his head back, and the tip of Brun's absurdly long bear tongue was pushing at the back of his throat, making Horace gag in a way that made him feel so, so awake. His nipples hardened at Brun's stroking. He felt his balls pressing against the shaft of Brun's cock as that massive, mountainous chest heaved into his back. <em>Go away. I'm so close. Just go away.</em></p><p>“<em>I may have found a way for us to be together.”</em></p><p>Horace looked down. He saw his cock disappearing into Brun's grip. A drop of precum spilled over the top of Brun's dusky brown fingers. An audible moan rattled out of Horace's throat.<em> Enough. You're gone. I moved on. Let me be happy again.</em></p><p>“<em>We can leave here tonight if we wanted.”</em></p><p>Horace was being lifted up by the base of his stubby tail. A wet fingertip slipped under him, finding his asshole, caressing it, attempting to slowly knead it open. Horace perched one leg up at the edge of the bed to accommodate it. <em>It's not you. It's not you. I know it's not you. Please let me rest. Please let me move on. Please. Please.</em></p><p>Brun's finger worked in, inch by inch. That long, rough claw edged tantalizingly close to Horace's prostate, and he found himself panting. Lost. Eyes open again. The ghost was in full view, trying and failing to cover a gaping wound in its stomach.</p><p>“<em>I don't understand. You wanted this. We both wanted this.”</em></p><p>Horace turned away, gnashing his teeth in equal parts pleasure and frustration. <em>Stop it. That is enough. You are GONE.</em></p><p>“<em>Horace? Please, Horace. You can't do this. You wouldn't do this. This isn't you. Horace.”</em></p><p>Horace gripped the bedcovers with greater intensity.<em> THAT'S ENOUGH.</em></p><p>The wound spilled over. A dagger clattered to the floor. The ghost dropped to his knees, face wracked in mortal pain. Eyes wide with horror. <em>“</em><em><b>HORACE</b></em><em>!”</em></p><p>“I said<b> THAT'S ENOUGH</b>!”</p><p>It took a few seconds for Horace to realize he had shouted that out loud. Everything had stopped. He stumbled from the bed to his feet and turned around to see a very confused Brun, still holding his cock in anticipation. “I... is everything all right?”</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“I did not hurt you, did I?”</p><p>“No, it...”</p><p>“Yes, I was a bit forward, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”</p><p>“I was! I was. Trust me, it was nothing you did. You...” Horace stroked the side of Brun's muzzle, then hopped back into his lap. “You were amazing. And I'm still ready.”</p><p>Brun's body seemed quite willing to continue, but his face was incredulous, in a concerned sort of way. “Something is bothering you. What?”</p><p>“It's fine. Keep going.” Horace leaned in for another kiss, but Brun put a finger up to his lips to stop him.</p><p>“No. Tell me why.”</p><p>Horace huffed with frustration. He felt more tears soaking the fur of his cheeks. “Please. I don't want to ruin this.” Brun fixed that stony stare on him again. It wasn't working. Horace had lost control. His first chance at companionship in years was slipping away. His sniffs avalanched into sobs, no matter how much he tried to contain them.</p><p>Brun finally responded by putting his arms around Horace, embracing him in a firm hug, one hand resting on the back of his head. “Nothing is ruined. We have all evening to enjoy each other's company. It's only us.”</p><p>A deep, fierce shame spread through Horace as he watched himself weep into Brun's shoulder. Almost three whole decades had passed, and he was still too weak not to permit himself to be emotionally compromised. With the enemy, no less. It was unbecoming. It was stupid. It was childish. And he couldn't bring himself to stop. It happened so long ago. Decades at this point. How did it still have so much power over him?</p><p>“I can't believe I still miss him.”</p><p>“Hmm.” The deep grumble that emanated from Brun's lungs soothed Horace's tension. “What was his name?”</p><p>Horace exhaled to steady himself and opened his eyes. Despite his bleary vision, despite all the years that had passed, Horace could still see that boyish face with absolute clarity. “Niall.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What did he look like?”</p><p>
  <em>Cute. Very cute. Skunk. Heavyset with a large frame.</em>
</p><p>Brun chuckled warmly at that. Horace now realized far, far too late in his life that he had a type.</p><p>
  <em>Dimples when he smiled, which was every time he saw me. Very ticklish under his arms, and when he laughed, you could see the silly little gap in the bottom front row of his teeth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was sweet. Far too sweet for the military. We were in the same boat; sent off by small-minded parents who thought it would toughen us up. No coming back home until we had a wife and a post. It took...</em>
</p><p>Horace smirked. <em>It took far too long for us to admit our feelings to each other. We danced around it for weeks until he finally became bold enough to kiss me behind a tree. While I was in mid sentence.</em> He laughed as he reminisced. <em>It was quite awkward.</em></p><p>
  <em>It didn't take long for the other boys in the barracks to suspect something. We only ever kept company with each other, never paid the village girls any mind, far too nice for our own good...</em>
</p><p>A few altercations floated through Horace's mind. He usually stepped in and took the brunt of the beating for Niall, as well as the blame.</p><p>
  <em>It became dangerous very fast. Eventually, one of them – a boar by the name of Stef – caught us fooling around and threatened blackmail by going straight to the captain. Of course, our parents had sent us off with nothing. He wasn't happy. I tried to stop him, and...</em>
</p><p>He recalled Stef grappling Niall on the streets in the dead of night, trying his damnedest to twist his arm off. The rage that seized him as he shoved Stef back against a brick wall and clutched his head. The sudden, unexpected crack of the boar's neck. The body slumping gently down and settling in a heap on the cobblestones.</p><p>
  <em>I lost control.</em>
</p><p>There was a moment of quiet. Brun ran his fingers along Horace's back in silent encouragement.</p><p>
  <em>Niall remembered... an abandoned church outside of town and thought we could hide the body there for the time being, until we could scrounge up some axes and shovels. What else could we do? The penalty would have been death for us both. So we carried the body there. The windows had all been broken and you could see right in, but we found a basement door. Very heavy slab, felt oddly out of place. But it was almost morning and we were out of options. I had to prop it open while Niall dragged the body downstairs. The basement was pitch black. About halfway through, I saw a terrified look on his face. He shouted something out, but I couldn't hear it. A powerful force threw me back, and the door slammed shut.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For the life of me, I couldn't wedge it back open. After half an hour of struggling, I had to leave, or they would have caught both of us out of our bunks instead of just one of us. I screamed through the door, swore I would come back for him. But when I snuck back in to the barracks... Niall was already there, snoring away. No acknowledgment of me whatsoever. Nothing about it was right.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of course, the other boy was still missing. An investigation was launched. Everyone in our bunk was quick to finger us as suspects just because we were us, but the investigators couldn't scrape up any witnesses to corroborate us being out of the barracks that night. Niall's reaction to it all was oddly calm. Cocky, even. From that point, his sweetness to me felt embellished, contrived, trotted out only when I prompted him. Not Niall at all. It was something wearing him like a grotesque suit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After the investigation died down, Niall – or whatever was pretending to be him – tried to convince me to come back to the church. Said he had found a way for us to escape the Guard, live out in the wilderness together. Not wanting to seem suspicious, I agreed, and we snuck out the next night. Of course, I grabbed a few things out of the armory before heading out. I was no fool. Niall lifted the basement door effortlessly, inviting me in. He didn't notice me scattering spirit seeds as I followed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even with a torch lit, the basement floor swallowed nearly all trace of light. Then I saw Stef. Or what was left of him. His flesh strung and withered like a piece of jerky. But breathing, somehow resurrected and being kept alive by some hideous magical contrivance. Niall... slashed Stef's wrist and something poured out, something much darker than blood. He drank what came out. And then offered me some.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That was my first time seeing the effects of Rot up close. Something dark glowed beneath Niall's skin, ruptured inside him like an earthquake. Tendrils crept from his back. He kept spinning lies, saying anything he could to convince me to join him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then the seeds sprouted. As the church was being torn to pieces by mammoth trees sprouting from the floor, I took a dagger from my sleeve and rushed him, demanding that Niall be released. The thing inside him raged, threw me back and forth. I tried to resist. My arm slipped out, and...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The dagger caught him square in the stomach. The scream was unearthly. I backed off. He kept talking, but it still wasn't Niall. It tried to wring the guilt out of me for minutes, attempting to make me falter. I waited. And waited. Until something woke up and recognized me. Neill finally resurfaced. He looked ragged, under constant struggle. Only two words managed to form on his lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'End this.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So I did.</em>
</p><p>Horace couldn't bring himself to cry again at this memory. He could only stare ahead, feeling empty.</p><p>
  <em>Several townsfolk had come on to the scene by that point. They hailed me as a hero, and Niall was denigrated as a sorcerer and a murderer. His family disavowed his memory. There was no grave for him. Any body infected by Rot was burned with haste. I moved up the ranks quickly, but from that point, I closed myself off to personal relationships. I told myself it was because I couldn't risk anyone else dying on my account, but really... the thought of opening up to anyone just hurt too much.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you ever find yourself in Dawn's Call, face out from the back of the Inn and walk twenty paces. Then turn to the tree to your left with a dagger stuck at its roots. That's the tree where Niall and I first kissed. What little I could collect of his ashes now rest there. I leave another notch every time I visit. The bark on the trunk is almost completely stripped off.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Opening Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Horace surfaced from his reverie. His hands were folded in his lap. Brun looked consumed with his every word. As much as Horace hated reflecting on his past, he had to admit, Brun was a great listener.</p><p>“So now you know. And now that I've thoroughly soiled our evening, I suppose I should take my leave.”</p><p>“Wait.” Brun caught Horace before he got to his feet. “Let me help you.”</p><p>The sincerity in Brun's eyes was undeniable, but that didn't change the fact that Horace's dignity was still in a pile on the floor. “You're a sweetheart. You really are. But I doubt you can change anything.”</p><p>“No?” Brun stood up. Horace was quickly reminded of what a physical presence the bear had, particularly in such a small space. “You think I know nothing of sacrifice, soldier? Loving and losing? Being backstabbed and betrayed by those I thought cared for me the most?” Energetic crackles leapt along Brun's scar marks. Horace's muscles tensed for the first time since meeting him, but the tone Brun struck felt more impassioned than aggressive.</p><p>“I... I'm sorry, Brun. I'm trying to understand. But I never thought this would be so difficult for me.”</p><p>“What's <em>difficult</em> is letting yourself be loved at all, you brick-headed idiot,” said Brun, gripping Horace by the shoulders. “Prying your heart out of your chest and entrusting it to a stranger, praying they don't wring it dry. And when they do, it hurts. Every time. But sealing it off to fester within you hurts so much more.” Brun's outburst left Horace a little stunned. He had never been insulted so touchingly.</p><p>“You did a brave thing tonight. It means nothing if you stop now and take it all back.”</p><p>Horace's body felt limp in Brun's grasp. “Why do you care so much? We've known each other for all of an hour.”</p><p>“And I now know more about you than, I'm willing to bet, the vast majority of people in your life.”</p><p>Again, Horace felt stripped naked by the truth. More naked than he already was. Why couldn't Scarlet have just sent him on a suicide mission? Horace could parry gigantic double-headed maces far better than incisive observations about his numerous personality flaws.</p><p>“There are no accidents. The Wylds have deigned to unite us tonight.”</p><p>“Fine.” Horace's voice came out defeated, almost timid, making him all the more self-conscious. “How do you propose to help me?”</p><p>“Oh, I cannot help you.” Brun leaned over to go through his belongings and found a small, ornate stone dagger. “But I can call on something that will.”</p><p>Something about the candlelit gleam on the dagger's edge made Horace deeply unsettled. “Must we? I don't know if you've heard, but I've had my fill of ritual nonsense in my lifetime.”</p><p>Brun huffed. “Again with your city-dweller arrogance. You think you are better for having locked your soul away for all these years? Only the Wyld holds the key to unlocking your suffering.”</p><p>Horace folded his arms. “You have yet to answer my question. How?”</p><p>There was a moment of thought before Brun's reply. “We can bring him back.”</p><p>The implications of those words left Horace wide-eyed. “...you're talking about resurrection.”</p><p>“No, not resurrection. Summoning. Calling forth his spirit.”</p><p>“I know what you speak of. It's the same sort of chicanery that got Niall killed in the first place.” Horace remained unconvinced. “I won't dishonor his memory by giving in to such desperation.”</p><p>“What you observed,” continued Brun, “were the corrupting effects of Rot. Rot preys on weakness, compels evil deeds against the will of its victims for its own profit. It devours at all costs. The magic of the Wyld is far removed from that. It seeks only to resolve balance. But it is only successful if all parties involved are willing and true.”</p><p>All of Brun's attempts to convince Horace only left him feeling emptier. He felt his refusals becoming more heated. “I will be united with Niall in death. The thought of seeing him now, before I could... hold him, touch him again... it would only make me sick.”</p><p>“Well... not seeing, precisely. I would act as the vessel. Niall will speak and act through me-”</p><p>“More nonsense,” said Horace, getting up to collect his clothes that were scattered along the floor. “I've wasted my time.” To hell with the mission. It wasn't worth reliving the worst pain of his life, long after it had been well buried.</p><p>Brun stamped his foot down on the shirt Horace was leaning over to collect. Horace looked up with a sneer, but he was a bit impressed. It had been a while since Horace had met a match for his stubbornness. “You are haunted by his memory. You cannot hide from it any longer. Not after you reached out to me.”</p><p>“I would have said I was a red-assed baboon if it meant getting you up here!” Horace's had finally hit his boiling point. “Do you understand?! I lied. All right? It was all a scam to rob you. And now it's all fallen to pieces now. So piss off.”</p><p>Brun was unfazed by this confession. “No. You did not lie.”</p><p>“Wha-” The twitch in Horace's left eye came back. “I just ADMITTED to it! I'm lying, thieving scum! What the hell is wrong with-”</p><p>Brun grabbed Horace's muzzle to shut him up, but in a loving way, as if he was getting a puppy to stop nipping at his ankles. Then he stroked Horace's cheek with his thumb, just as he did down at the bar.</p><p>“There was no lie in your actions. The way you looked at me, when you offered your throat... the need in your eyes when you left yourself open. Vulnerable. You surrendered to me an honesty, a desperate need for tenderness that everyone knows but very few are willing to admit to. Which makes it all the more frustrating when you resolve to be so blind to it.”</p><p>Horace found himself crying again. “You can't just let me stumble through the rest of my awful, stupid life, eh? You altruistic bastard?”</p><p>“Well, if we're being quite honest with each other, I'm feeling very raw from a fresh breakup, and throwing myself into the troubles of a stranger is a welcome distraction.” Brun gave Horace what seemed to be a cheeky smile. It got Horace laughing, in spite of himself.</p><p>“What do you need from me, then?”</p><p>Brun laid a kiss on Horace's forehead, then looked deep within him, as only he could.</p><p>“Just as before. Honesty.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. United</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The preparations didn't take long, but once they were finished, night had fully touched down. Doing precisely as instructed, Horace sat kneeling on the bed, his palms stretched out, flat against an imaginary wall. Once he was satisfied with his work, Brun placed a bowl of some sort of glowing, mossy pulp between them, then mirrored Horace's pose. The dagger was dipped, then placed, sharp edge out, between their palms.</p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>Horace nodded, silent and bereft of expectation.</p><p>At once, Brun pressed their palms together and retracted the dagger. They both flinched reflexively. It stung, but Horace had experienced his far share of wounds. Brun repeated the process with the other side, then made sure their palms were flush, the cuts lined up as closely as possible. Droplets of blood flecked the sheets. Minutes passed before Horace began to get antsy.</p><p>“...should something have-”</p><p>“Shh,” said Brun, his eyes closed in concentration. “Close your eyes and see him.”</p><p>Horace shut his eyes again and furrowed his brow, furiously trying to picture Niall. “I am.”</p><p>“Hear his voice. Take in his scent. Feel his touch. Permit your mind to go nowhere else.”</p><p>After such a stressful night, Horace's patience wore thin. The memories he had brought up so easily an hour before now seemed determined to scatter. He dove for them, wild as a fox after a rabbit, only for them to wriggle away. The first time he saw Niall, from across a crowded mess hall. Blank. How Horace would yelp and scold Niall when he put those cold hands up his back. Gone. The last time they held hands, just before going into that accursed church. Flashes of white. The smell of fresh lilac on Niall's shoulder right after he bathed. The deathly stench emanating from Stef's open wound. Niall's little snort when he started to giggle. His shrieking wail as he was gutted. Horace's teeth clenched. It was all too much.</p><p>“Too hard. It's too hard.”</p><p>“Talk to him!”</p><p>“I can't,” said Horace, beginning to shake. “I can't face him again.”</p><p>“Tell him why!”</p><p>Horace felt a glow dimly penetrate through his eyelids, the same glow from the bowl. It must have been illuminating the whole room.</p><p>“I...”</p><p>“TELL HIM WHY!”</p><p>Horace looked inward. He saw Niall from the moment before his death. The noise that surrounded them was deafening, and all Horace could see was Niall moving his lips. The dagger was clutched in Horace's hand. End this. End this.</p><p>With a sharp exhale, Horace dropped the dagger and embraced Niall. The Rot spread across both their bodies. Their flesh was consumed. Their bodies crumbled to smoldering ash.</p><p>“I don't want it to end.”</p><p>Even with Horace's eyes closed, the light that shot out was blinding. An otherworldly clap of energy blasted him backward. The bed wobbled weakly until the light faded and he came back to reality.</p><p>“Brun?” Horace struggled to right himself. The bowl was empty, and its contents had left a sizable scorch mark on the ceiling. Hope we have enough left in the coffers to cover the deposit, Horace thought idly. He looked forward. Brun was still flat on his back, scars lit completely. His head had made a small dent in the opposite wall. With some worry, Horace crawled over and slapped him lightly on the face. “Brun, did it work? Are you all right? Brun?”</p><p>After a few seconds, Brun brushed Horace's hand aside and pinched his face in a very un-Brun-like way. “Who's Brun?”</p><p>No. It couldn't have worked. But the lilt of the voice was unmistakable. And when Brun opened his eyes, Horace swore they were the exact shade of green as Niall's. Once they unblurred, they fixed on Horace and went wide.</p><p>“Sweetie?”</p><p>“Niall?”</p><p>“Didn't I just tell you to kill me?”</p><p>Horace tried to speak, but found no words, and simply nodded. He began to weep in delirious joy. Still in shock, Brun's eyes wandered briefly around the inn room.</p><p>“Well, I'd say you did a pretty bad job.”</p><p>Unable to wait any longer, Horace threw his arms around Brun's body, laying chest to chest, leaving breathless kisses on his lips and face. Niall, still collecting himself, did everything he could to keep up. Eventually, Horace forced himself to back off ever so slightly.</p><p>“I know you have many questions,” Horace said, “but our time is short. I was told we would only have ten minutes together.”</p><p>The same overwhelming joy spread across Brun's face, which was now worn with sincere, boyish charm. “I can't think of any better way to spend it.” Niall sat up with his temporary body, pulling Horace up effortlessly with him, then looked puzzled. “Was I always taller than you? And a bear?”</p><p>“Shut up, you beautiful fool,” said Horace, who leaned up from Brun's lap to kiss Niall again.</p><p>Niall and Horace set out to make judicious use of their time. Niall used Brun's hands to run up and down every inch of Horace, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, over and over again, not once lifting them away. Horace wanted to mention so much to Niall; how sorry he was for what happened, how long it had been, all the things he'd done since training, every mark he had left on their tree. But it all came second to simply being present with him, together, inseparable, if only for the merest blink. Now that Niall was here, all Horace could do was think of how badly he wanted him in this moment.</p><p>He slid down and slipped his mouth around Brun's cock, softly kissing around its head, tracing the tip of his tongue around every curve of the glans, savoring every minute twinge of pleasure he saw course along that wonderful face. The cock grew steadily inside Horace's mouth, and it wasn't long before Niall was leaning enrirely over Horace's head, rocking his newfound hips against Horace's muzzle. Horace propped his hands against Brun's rear, setting an even faster pace, pushing Niall even further into his mouth. He gulped and gagged as the cock hit the back of his throat, but still looked up with willing eyes, desperate to make up for lost time and broken promises. Niall became terribly flustered with all this, gripping the back of Horace's head, massaging his ears, whispering sweet words from the past, until he shuddered to a stop and lost himself to orgasm. Thick ropes of cum painted the inside of Horace's throat white, and he swallowed it with a thirst he had never before known, letting his hands run along Brun's thighs as the last drops eased out.</p><p>Eager to reciprocate, Niall collapsed backwards and rolled over, getting on all fours. He reached back and groped at Brun's ass, spreading it and looking back at Horace with urgent need. Horace followed his lead, wetting his middle finger in his mouth, still sticky with seed. He worked his finger in steadily, lapping at Brun's rim as he did, wringing every precious moan out of Niall that he possibly could. When the middle finger went all the way up to the hilt, Horace started with his index, then his ring, all while steadily cradling Brun's balls in his other hand. It wasn't long before Niall was muffling his outbursts with the covers, whimpering, begging for another release.</p><p>“I want to see your eyes,” said Horace, becoming keenly aware that the seconds were running out. Horace patted firmly into Brun's side, and Niall rolled back over, resting his back on the bedframe. Horace struggled to prop Brun's bottom half up, but Niall accommodated by spreading Brun's legs. Overflowing with precum, Horace found no trouble slipping into Brun, Niall shuddering as he did. Holding Brun at the knees, Horace took delicate control over his thrusts, making sure his cock hit at just the right angle. Even inside a different body, Niall recognized Horace's technique almost instantly, and reached blindly back to steady himself, nearly ripping the frame out from behind him. Horace remembered just how much he loved seeing Niall bothered, teased, nearly incapacitated with feeling, always as if they were still making love for the first time. He never got tired of it. And Niall never got tired of him. Niall looked back at Horace, rapt with pleasure, and it was all Horace needed to finish inside of him.</p><p>Horace withdrew, panting, and climbed back on to Brun's lap. Niall was still there, for now, but the glow from Brun's scars was starting to fade. A lump formed in Horace's throat. He knew his time with Niall was coming to another end.</p><p>“My love.”</p><p>“Horace. It's all right.”</p><p>Niall put a hand to Horace's face. Horace let the tears come. He no longer felt shame for shedding them.</p><p>“Please tell me we'll see each other again.”</p><p>Niall just smiled his boyish smile. “I know we will. But not too soon, I hope.”</p><p>“I should be so lucky.”</p><p>They laughed together. As the last of Brun's magic faded, Horace kissed Niall on the forehead. The green glimmer in his eyes flickered. As Niall drifted back to wherever he had come from, Horace wanted to whisper goodbye, but what ended up coming out of his mouth instead was a simple “thank you.”</p><p>Before long, Brun's face settled back into its usual stern scowl.</p><p>“Did you find what you were looking for?”</p><p>Horace wiped the last few tears from his face, feeling heavy and emotionally wrung out, but satisfied in a way he could scarcely explain. “Yes. Um... sorry if we were a bit rough.”</p><p>Brun shifted his weight a bit, realizing what Horace meant, and quaked with amusement. “HA! Not at all, friend. I felt everything. If anything, you were far too tender. If there's one thing this body can take, it's a beating.” He thumped his chest with his fist.</p><p>“Right. Glad to be of service.” Horace had to force out a laugh, even though he did find it funny. He looked down. “I'm in your debt. I can't imagine how I could begin to repay you for this.”</p><p>“No need. If you must, repay me by keeping me company for a little while longer.”</p><p>Brun laid on his side and patted next to him. After such a long and trying evening, Horace was all too willing to curl up beside him. There was hardly any room, and Brun was far too big to fit under the sheets, but the warmth radiating from his body was more than enough.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A thoroughly worn shield was thrown on top of Scarlet's makeshift desk-barrel. Scarlet gave it a once-over. “That's it? That's really all the equipment he had?”</p><p>“Apart from a couple gold in his change purse,” Horace said. “And that mace of his, but I would have woken up half the town dragging that thing downstairs.”</p><p>“Oh, brilliant! That should cover less than half of the cost of the damages to the room.” Scarlet slammed her fist down. The barrels rolled away and the shield clattered to the floor.</p><p>“Humblest apologies, my King.”</p><p>“Fuck me. The bloody miner must have led me on with false Intel. Well, that'll teach me to steal from someone who's slept in the woods half his life.” Scarlet paced up and down, furiously attempting to scheme up some backup plans.</p><p>“Well, I can't fault your logic. It was something of a wild idea, but I have to admit, it worked. To a degree.”</p><p>“Eh, I've had moments. Some better, some worse. But at least you got something out of it, eh?” She gave Horace a slap on the arm.</p><p>Horace looked aside and smiled to himself. “That I did.”</p><p>Scarlet let out a wry cackle. “You dirty old <em>dog</em>! Look at you go on! See, I knew there was a bit of slut in you.”</p><p>“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”</p><p>“Oh, you don't have to tell me. I can always see it. It's in the knees.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Scarlet! I got it!”</p><p>Twiss flipped her tiny body through the window of the cellar, Marauder's Gauntlets in now. To her surprise, Scarlet wasn't already expecting her. Instead, she found Scarlet using her Sailor's Lantern to peek on something far more interesting.</p><p>The figures that appeared inside the Lantern were Horace and some beefy bear, holding each other tenderly, naked as jaybirds. And Scarlet looking on, clutching a handkerchief, utterly swept away in the tearful romance of the moment. “Take him, you stubborn old bastard. Take him and never let him go!”</p><p>Twiss delighted in this circus for a few more seconds before tossing an acorn. It clanged against the Lantern, making Scarlet yelp, jump out of her seat, and land face-first on the damp stone floor. When Scarlet found out who was responsible, she had never looked more scandalized.</p><p>“Breathe a word of this to <em>anyone</em> and I'll turn you and your poofy tail into a very fashionable hat.”</p><p>Twiss thought it over, then looked to the coffers and cast a truly evil grin. “Let's talk terms, shall we?”</p>
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